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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125795">Hotel Transformation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorese/pseuds/Lorese'>Lorese</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aphrodisiacs, Brainwashing, Breast Expansion, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Girl Penis, Hypnotism, Large Breasts, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Multi, Oral Sex, Original Fiction, Other, Porn, Punk, Sex, Smut, Subliminal Messages, Submission, TF, Trans Female Character, Watching, bimbofication</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:40:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorese/pseuds/Lorese</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A down on her luck punk musician, Sarah, waits out a rainstorm in a hotel. But she might stay a lot longer after she gets a dose of hospitality (and bimbo brainwashing).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>170</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hotel Transformation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You don't have to read anything else to enjoy this story. This is, however, chronologically the first chapter of my "hotel" series. If you really care about reading order, this is the place to start!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sarah pulled in under the diffused red light of neon in the rain. It was pouring outside — easily the worst storm she’d hit on her road trip — and her tiny car wasn’t about to make it another mile. So she pulled up under the big, crimson “vacancies” sign at the first hotel she’d seen. Her phone’s map app didn’t have any better suggestions. It had become sluggish and unresponsive altogether: probably because of the impenetrable nighttime storm.</p><p>As near as she could tell, hers was the only car in the parking lot. That gave her a short trek through the downpour to the front door. She was still drenched by the time she reached the entrance, though.</p><p>Her closely shorn scalp was practically shaved on the sides, with a low, green crop of loose mohawk down the center. It didn’t absorb much water. Her dark crop top had at one time sported more fabric to protect her from the elements. But that was before she cut it open down the front into a makeshift vest. The multicolored tube top she wore underneath played well at concerts, if she wanted to pick up girls and the occasional guy, but didn’t help her now. And her patched, red jeans were so tight that she could feel the weight of water collecting in them with every step.</p><p>Sarah could also see her own black tattoos reflected in the glass doors. They contrasted against her even blacker lipstick, broken only by the glint of a single, silver lip ring. She had been on her way to one of those aforementioned concerts — one in a long string on a path to nowhere in particular, as she figured out what to do next with her life. Technically she was a musician: usually of the punk rock variety. But on this trip she mostly made her money acting as a temporary roadie or handywoman for various venues. It didn’t earn much cash, but she figured she had at least enough to spend one night at a hotel in the middle of nowhere.</p><p>The door to her latest safe haven squelched open. The interior was, basically, old and boring: all brown carpets and beige walls. It was old fashioned, but also clean and quiet, which meant it was good enough for Sarah. Except there was nobody at the front desk...</p><p>She stood there for a moment, just dripping and wondering if she should knock on the counter to get someone’s attention, when suddenly that someone walked out of a nearby door.</p><p>“Sorry,” the other woman said. “I didn’t think anyone would be coming in this weather! Ooh, you’re like, totally wet and I kept you waiting!”</p><p>“Uh,” Sarah replied. “It’s no trouble.”</p><p>She didn’t know what else to say. The woman — a receptionist? — was now sitting before her at the check-in counter, wearing nothing but a microscopic string bikini. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The straps themselves had white, decorative frills above the cups and around the waist. They almost formed a sort of skirt, on the bottom, but not one that did anything to hide the tiny patch of dark fabric over her crotch. It didn’t help that her boobs and hips were awfully hefty; the bikini did only the bare minimum to support them or stem the tide of flesh against fiber.</p><p>Her legs were somewhat covered. Although the white, thigh-high fishnets were so transparent and so suggestive that they didn’t really count. Then there was the choker: a dark band of elastic around her throat, also bordered by more white frills. It simply said “SERVICE” in gold, block letters.</p><p>The woman caught Sarah’s gaze and smiled: “Oh, this! I was just, like, using the pool a little bit ago. It was so dead I didn’t think anyone would mind. I was, like, in a hurry, so I just borrowed one of the swimsuits the owner leaves for us. The pool’s complimentary to guests, by the way! Will you be staying with us tonight?”</p><p>Sarah didn’t comment that the receptionist’s red, one-sided bob cut looked perfectly dry. Nor that she must have applied her thick, lilac eyeshadow and other makeup after getting out of the pool, but before changing into real clothes. She wasn’t one to judge her fashion (or what the stranger might have actually been doing in the hotel). It didn’t hurt that she was very, very hot.</p><p>“Yeah,” Sarah finally said after tearing her eyes off the receptionist’s tits. “I just need a room for one.”</p><p>“Perfect.” The bikini-clad babe typed away at a computer with white, manicured nails. “We’ve got, like, tons of rooms available. And I doubt anybody else is checking in tonight. If you’re just staying till morning, I can be extra nice and hook you up with one of our special suites for the price of a single. How about it?”</p><p>As she said this, the woman leaned forward, not-so-subtly deepening her cleavage while she waited for a response. Sarah noticed. The receptionist noticed her noticing. She smiled again and giggled a tiny giggle. Then she pushed her chest forward just an extra inch or so in Sarah’s direction.</p><p>“Sounds good,” the very cool musician replied very coolly (she hoped). “Yeah, I’m just blowing through. I shouldn’t be here long.”</p><p>“I’d love to make your stay as memorable as possible, either way!”</p><p>The flirting paused as the duo hammered out details. Luckily it was as cheap as Sarah had hoped. She paid, got her keycard to her room at the end of the hall, and decided to push her luck.</p><p>“So like,” she started. “If you need to get into my room for an emergency or something, even in the middle of the night, you can, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Another giggle. “Oh, yes. The hotel owner and I both have master keys. We could come visit you anytime you like. Oh! Actually, I’ll notify housekeeping to find and lay out some dry clothes for you, sweetie.”</p><p>With that tidbit established, Sarah made for her room down the hall. She passed the indoor pool her new friend had mentioned; it was empty. The whole first floor was the same way, in fact. From the hallways, you might have guessed the entire hotel was abandoned. But the drenched guest heard activity — laughter, the occasional thud, and indistinct murmuring that must have been TVs — from inside one or two of the rooms. It was oddly comforting to know she wasn’t alone.</p><p>Her room wasn’t all that “special” for a special suite, though. There wasn’t even a couch: just a single, plush seat that looked like someone’s idea of modern art. It was like something from a CEO’s office crashed into a dentist’s chair. The seat was turned to face an admittedly very impressive TV. And the room did at least have its own separate bedroom and bathroom. It didn’t lack for space, just luxuries. It also technically had a set of dry clothes laid out to her on the table.</p><p>It was the same sort of silly, frilly bikini the receptionist wore: complete with the slutty stockings and choker. Except this one was bright pink and said “GUEST” around the collar.</p><p>“Yeah, right,” Sarah scoffed. “You’re cute, lady, but I’m not getting into that thing for anybody.” If it came to that, she decided, Sarah would rather greet her partner in the nude than be seen in the little bimbo bikini. Whoever owned the hotel must have been a real pervert (and extremely optimistic) to expect anyone to use these as emergency swimsuits.</p><p>She stripped naked and set her own clothes out to dry. After giving it some thought, Sarah had decided greeting her date in the buff wasn’t such a bad idea... The other woman wasn’t exactly the subtlest person herself.</p><p>Sarah’s breasts weren’t quite as large as the receptionist’s, but they were big enough for her. They were soft and pale, just like the rest of her body — wherever she didn’t have tattoos, that was. The ink designs stretched all the way down her sides, hips, and the small of her back. Her ever-so-slightly pudgy stomach was usually bare. Except just then it was patterned with goose pimples. She was chilled to the bone from the rain. And her cold, pink nipples stood out farthest of all, reigning over the smaller bumps.</p><p>The musician rubbed her shoulders for warmth and began running a bath. The water heated wonderfully quickly. The steam alone eased her taut muscles. And there was quite a lot of steam. It fogged the bathroom mirror in an instant and left a visible haze in the air. It even had a faint scent Sarah couldn’t quite place, no matter how hard she focused. In fact, it seemed to get harder to concentrate on the more she sniffed it. </p><p>There was the rumble of a vent somewhere above her, but it didn’t seem to be doing much to counteract the vapor. There was something… else, there, too. It sounded like the faintest whisper of voices, even over the soothing hum. Much like the smell, any meaning in it slipped away from her the more she focused, so she decided to just let it wash over her.</p><p>“Must be old,” she pondered aloud. </p><p>The water looked clear, though, and the smell wasn’t unpleasant by any stretch. Not to mention the stress of driving slick roads seemed to be catching up with her. Sarah was suddenly very tired, and a hot soak sounded like an increasingly perfect cure.</p><p>The musician lowered herself into the warm water. Satisfaction spiked through her whole body in response. Her skin practically tingled. It was as if the bathwater was effervescent — full of bubbles licking at every corner of her. But the liquid remained clear, besides some hotel soap and body lotion she applied to herself.</p><p>Her weariness melted into relaxation. Sarah didn’t want to move, but did so anyway to work more of the wonderful, sudsy water into her pores. The pleasant scent grew sweeter and more pungent the deeper she relaxed into the bath. At the same time, the fizzy feeling permeated between her thighs, around her crotch, and even into openings that waited there. The dueling sensations excited her until she reached between her legs and began tickling her stiffening clit lightly through short, kempt hair. She giggled.</p><p>“Gotta be careful,” she cooed. “I might have company later… Need to be ready.”</p><p>Sarah dunked her head under the water briefly, wetting her short hair and face, to jolt herself out of the reverie. It was no good. Now the tingle spread to her lips. Her head felt sluggish and hazy. She giggled again, noting the smell now wafted off her own damp skin, making it impossible to escape.</p><p>Her mind was still clear enough to get her out of the tub, though: before she fell asleep or diddled herself even sillier. She had little trouble drying off with a towel, but by the time she reached the bathroom door Sarah had to steady herself on its frame to get through. The scent and the tingling didn’t stop when she exited the water. Together they made her legs tremble with arousal. She suddenly needed relief from the growing pulse in her pussy almost as much as she had needed it from the stress of the night’s drive. Scratch that! She needed it much, much more.</p><p>“Hope she… gets here soon,” Sarah slurred through stinging lips.</p><p>Or anybody, really, Sarah corrected herself mentallly. Just need someone… to help me with… this!</p><p>The woman stumbled to her knees just shy of the living room table. She snorted drunkenly at her own clumsiness. Her balance was completely off; her head was a happy mess of the same titillating buzz flowing through her body. Being on her knees let her keep her balance, though.</p><p>This feels much more natural, she thought. Why don’t I stay down on my knees all the time?<br/>
There was a reason why. However, it felt small and far away compared to the growing urges inside her. She didn’t just want to masturbate. She didn’t just want to be on her knees. She wanted to get fucked. God, Sarah was horny.</p><p>That’s when she noticed the silly outfit still laid out on the table — now at eye level. The sexy lady at the front desk had laid it out for her. She had wanted Sarah to wear it. Wasn’t the sexy lady supposed to come fuck her? She’d probably fuck her if she wore such a slutty outfit.</p><p>She maneuvered a second thought through the bright, jolly fog in her head: It’s, like… kinda cute.</p><p>Sarah was increasingly desperate. The nice woman had hinted that was in the cards. She had even shown her her titties! The least Sarah could do was whatever her sexual savior wanted — no matter how degrading. Who knew? Maybe she would even like it. The outfit was cute after all. Maybe she would even enjoy dressing like a cheap stripper. </p><p>Something about that thought struck Sarah as slightly odd for a split second, too. Then she tipped over backwards trying to pull on one of the pink stockings. The strangeness of the moment evaporated in another fit of giggles. It didn’t actually take long to get the rest of the revealing outfit on. It felt almost as natural as kneeling. Plus the sensation of fabric was wonderful against her pleasantly burning skin.</p><p>Her balance wasn’t any better, though. Sarah returned to her kneeling position and looked down to see if her knees were still shaking. To her surprise, her tingling titties blocked her view of her stomach and part of her thighs.</p><p>Had they always been that big? They must have. It wasn’t like she could have gone from a C to a D in the last thirty minutes. The ridiculous swimsuit must have really highlighted her assets. Sarah could certainly feel its tiny triangles of fabric digging tightly into her flesh. And her inch of tummy fat curved comfortably above the cloth hugging her hips. That was normal. She was just imagining things.</p><p>That didn’t mean she could stand up without toppling over, though, so she didn’t even try. Instead she crawled on all fours. Had she been able to see it, Sarah might have considered that her ass was slightly rounder as well, as it wiggled from side to side while she slithered. She pulled herself up into the furniture and relaxed for a moment, hoping to rest and clear her head before receiving her nighttime visitor.</p><p>She intended to simply rest there in the dark for a moment, but must have bumped the remote control. The huge TV before her flickered to life with a tiny crackle. The sound seemed odd for such a modern-looking television, but Sarah assumed it must be like the rest of the hotel: old.</p><p>Her hypothesis was confirmed by the picture quality. It was all light-blue static with a strange, winding pattern of lines behind it. Sarah briefly considered changing the channel to see if anything else came in more clearly.</p><p>Thought left Sarah completely at that point. The simple pattern drew her in completely. Her mouth drooped and her breathing slowed as her mind emptied, leaving only her horny body behind. She could still smell that arousing smell: still hear the hint of a whisper from the vents. But that was just autopilot. </p><p>She didn’t even notice as the redhead from the front desk quietly jiggled into her room. The receptionist snapped her fingers in front of Sarah’s eyes a few times. The only response she got was a thin line of drool dribbling from the guest’s face, and down between her subtly expanding jugs.</p><p>They were undeniably larger now. As were Sarah’s buttocks and black-painted lips. The growth was already slowing, though. The hotel only changed women into human blow-up dolls if a customer specifically requested it. The changes being made to Sarah made her a bit more “conventionally” attractive, but she would still look natural to most people (if they didn’t know what she looked like before). The tattoos and hair mostly stayed, as well. She still had the look of a punk — just a much more filled out one with fuller, borderline cock-sucking lips. There was unsurprisingly strong demand for the “corrupted rebel” look.</p><p>The receptionist made some adjustments to the TV. Then she clamped Sarah’s arms and ankles to her chair, pulling up hidden nylon restraints from within the folds of the furniture. Her wrists were held above her, attached to either side of the headrest. A press of the TV remote told the bonds to tighten. </p><p>The “GUEST” choker the dazed woman was wearing actually attached to another strap that came out of the headrest. It had a dual purpose. First, it kept guests’ heads in place to watch the video, while their bodies and minds were restructured into those of grateful bimbo slaves. It also gently mimicked the sensation of a real collar — which the video told them was a fun, sexy part of everyday attire for an unthinking cum slut like them. The haptic reinforcement went a long way!</p><p>Speaking of which: the receptionist pressed one final combination of buttons on the remote. The chair slowly inclined forward. It pushed Sarah’s face closer to the TV; her eyes widened. Her breasts hung over her knees and her bubble butt was pushed backwards into open air, where the backrest and seat cushion now separated.</p><p>The free woman admired how handsomely her latest subject’s lower half was shaping up. She sucked on three fingers and slipped them into Sarah’s accessible pussy to see for herself. Sarah moaned. The feeling of fullness complemented what the images on-screen were telling her: to always be wet, horny, available, and docile. They told her it was so hard to think. That was fine, though, because bimbos didn’t need to think. They just needed to suck and fuck and play with themselves and help others realize they were happy, horny, sexy, empty-headed bimbos, too. In other words, the video was sculpting the soft mush the suite’s drugs and light subliminals had reduced Sarah’s brain to.</p><p>Each lesson was intercut with lightspeed montages of men, women, and all kinds of people getting fucked as hard as Sarah wanted to be: in every position, outfit, and location imaginable. The video told Sarah to picture herself in these situations. So she did. It wasn’t hard, once she simply let the lessons push all other thoughts out of her head. That was so much easier. That let her focus on more important things — like the two firm, slippery dildos that just then entered her stuck-out cunt and asshole (the video also said to refer to her holes like this, as well as her boobies as hooters, knockers, melons, and the like).</p><p>The two rods began to whir persistently inside her. They were attached to a device in the chair and moved in time with some of the more intense images on-screen. It was more haptic feedback, and it was effective. Sarah didn’t just have to imagine she was having all these obscene, wonderful things done to her hot, willing holes. She could feel it. She knew these things were happening to her — had happened to her, again and again, for years and years, because she was a brainless sex toy for others. She always had been. The video said so!</p><p>Sarah didn’t need to think about what she already was. That was silly. But then again, so was she: a silly little bimbo without a working brain cell to slow her down while she sucked cock, or to distract her tongue while she twirled it around a delicious pussy. She was happier that way. Everyone should be that happy!</p><p>The fizzy sensation on her skin was inside her head now. And as each bubble popped between her ears, they took another IQ point with them, until another 15 minutes had passed. During that time, orders to orgasm periodically flashed across the TV. Sarah did exactly as she was told, like a good sex slave, but quietly so as not to disturb any other guests. She wanted the guests to be as happy as she was, but didn’t think that was possible.</p><p>That’s when two small reservoirs inside Sarah’s dildos squirted a warm, sticky solution through her malleable insides. The artificial cum tingled like the bathwater, but much more intensely. The increased pressure and pleasure pushed Sarah over the edge. She was startled into an agonized, whimpering climax that sent ripples through every tip of her. It continued for as long as the precious fluid continued to pump into her, which felt like ages. Just when she thought semen was about to pour out of her nose, the pressure ceased. The rubber toys ejected and the liquid poured out of her in thick rivulets. Even that change in pressure felt amazing, though. Sarah was so far gone that any sensation running over her sensitive anus and folds was like being kissed there by the sun.</p><p>Her eyes had welled up with tears. More saliva dribbled down her chin and throat where her drooling had never really ceased.</p><p>“Why did you, like, stop?” Her question was directed at the receptionist. The red-haired woman was sitting on the table across from her tattooed counterpart, blocking the fascinating show Sarah had just been watching. “I was cumming, like, so much. Gotta cum!” She struggled limply against her restraints.</p><p>“That’s right,” the clerk countered. “A good bimbo needs to cum lots and lots! But more important than that, she needs to help others cum. You could orgasm just by wrapping your big, wonderful lips around a thick cock right now, couldn’t you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Sarah shivered as half a hundred still images of penises in a dozen different sizes, on both masculine and feminine bodies, fast-forwarded through her mind. Her pussy quivered involuntarily. She licked her lips. “I love cock, mmm, so much! How’d you, like, know that?”</p><p>“I just know how a dumb slut like you thinks.” Sarah came quietly again at being called a dumb slut. It was so nice when people put her in her place without having to ask them. “Because I’m one, too!”</p><p>The hotel employee was so relieved to finally drop her veneer of authority. Acting like a smart girl was so very difficult for her. For some reason, though, it seemed to put new guests at ease. She had agreed to stop offering to have sex with them immediately after they entered the building. Though she had drawn the line at wearing ugly clothes that covered her body more than this. Her owner had accepted her demand (without much of a fight, either) and given her the story about being in the pool to memorize. It didn’t fool anyone for long; it didn’t need to. Once guests were taught to be mindless, obedient whores, they were a lot more relaxed about that sort of thing.</p><p>The upright slut picked up the remote again and held down the power button. The restraints around Sarah released and her body was allowed to recline backwards again. That’s when she finally realized her hooters had grown to triple-D size. She sighed contently at the soft, firm melons. They didn’t ache (except mentally, when images of strong hands groping them flitted through her head) and only a couple stretch marks were visible near her rib cage. Propped up as much as they were by the micro-bikini, they completely blocked the sight of her knees now. Sarah bounced them up and down a few times and giggled.</p><p>“I know it’s no fun, but you have to focus, silly!” Sarah was guided out of her seat onto legs that trembled more than ever. But she found most of her drowsiness had burned off in the sexual avalanche she’d just endured. She was just feeling weak from all the excitement, and off-balance thanks to her reshaped body. “We gotta get you ready to meet the owner!”</p><p>“Are they gonna fuck me?” There was a tinge of hope in Sarah’s voice.</p><p>“Oh, absolutely,” the other woman said. “They like to sample all the new employees right away! That’s why we should hurry and get you processed.”</p><p>“Wait, I’m, like, an employee? And what does processed me- Ow!” Before she could finish asking, Sarah felt a sharp pain in her left nipple. She looked down and saw a small, metal ring hanging there. She had just gotten her nipple pierced.</p><p>There was another sharp pain — this time on the right bud. The receptionist was holding something that looked like a supermarket checkout gun. It was short and wide, but the “muzzle” was shaped like an asterisk. It looked like the user could twist it in multiple directions to engage multiple settings. Her new friend had just pushed her bikini aside and used the device to shoot her teats through with hard metal.</p><p>With her free hand, the staffer wiped Sarah’s backside clean with a rough rag. It was a somewhat futile effort. Even as she wiped away the chemically-infused goo, the sensation of the other woman’s hand near her crotch caused Sarah to start leaking her own juices.</p><p>“Hmm,” the senior bimbo pondered aloud. She stared at and stroked Sarah’s tattooed flesh. Electricity surged up her spine at the touch. “Your butt is all covered in these cute little pictures… I guess we’ll have to use your tummy!”</p><p>Before Sarah could ask what for, her attendant twisted the “gun” to a new setting and pressed it into the unmarked flesh under Sarah’s navel. There was another jolt of sensation, less painful this time, and when the woman pulled the object back there was a fresh tattoo there. It was black, like most of the rest of her ink, but much more evenly shaped. Sarah tugged her belly flesh forward for a better look. The mark was a thick, dark bar code.</p><p>The person who put it there twirled around and playfully ran a hand up her own posterior. There was a similar, slightly more faded code there.</p><p>“This is what shows you’re, like, an employee of the hotel,” she explained. “Which means you belong to the hotel owner, too. They have a lot of employees, though, so this helps us keep track.”</p><p>“I work for the hotel?” Sarah was confused. Being owned certainly felt right, but her drained brain had trouble putting the pieces together. “Aren’t I like a musician or something?”</p><p>“Oh, you can be that, too! We have lotsa performers here — mostly dancers and stuff. When you’re not being rented out to guests, you can probably still make the hotel more money doing that for people in the lounge.”</p><p>Being put on display for large groups of people seemed very fulfilling to Sarah. She was pretty sure that was what she wanted even before she stopped thinking so much — or something close to it. Being rented out to guests suddenly clicked into place, too. That was obviously why her collar said “GUESTS.” It wasn’t for the guests; Sarah was for the guests. It was funny how much more sense things made when you stopped thinking about them. She giggled about the silliness of it all.</p><p>“It seems like you’re getting the gist of your new life here,” said a slightly husky voice from behind Sarah. She recognized it at once, too. It was the voice from the video she had just watched... “Good girl, Sarah.”</p><p>Hearing those exact words from that voice flipped a switch in her leaky brain. Sarah couldn’t help but feel a shot of warm pleasure ripple through her pussy. She squealed and dropped to her knees again, clutching her crotch as she turned to face the owner of that sexy voice. The receptionist knelt down beside her (slightly more composed, but still visibly excited).</p><p>The torpid pair looked up to see a tall, thin, androgynous figure. Their owner wasn’t exactly dressed like someone running a hotel. They wore a teal top with a loose neckline that plunged all the way to their navel. It showed a great deal of small but attentive breasts. Beneath those were much plainer black slacks. Everything was covered slightly by a long, white lab coat  — except for their sharp face. That was adorned with a pair of thin glasses and long, black hair tied into a disheveled bun. They looked more like a lab assistant called into work after a night at the club than the owner of a business.</p><p>“You’re new friend was right,” they added. “I do like to test out all my new subjects before putting you to work or selling you off. Why don’t you show me how much you’ve learned.”</p><p>Then they snapped their fingers and said “Abby, position number three.”</p><p>“Abby,” who must have been the receptionist, groaned slightly and sat back. She pushed three fingers past her tiny bikini and began fingering herself slowly. Her head lolled and her eyes rolled back into her head a bit. The pink tip of her tongue poked out between her lips. Whatever she was thinking, it was clear she wasn’t paying much attention to the other people in the room anymore.</p><p>Then her new owner looked to Sarah and snapped her fingers again. There was something like a short circuit between the lobes of her brain as her mind flushed away all distractions. Her eyes crossed slightly as they focused intently on the fingertips before her. Her mouth gaped. When she heard “Sarah, position number five,” she came back down to Earth. Half a dozen scenes from her “training video” came with her.</p><p>Sarah didn’t bother to close her drooping mouth as she crawled towards her owner on all fours. It took a bit of doing — she was clumsy and overeager with her new lust — but she was eventually able to undo the front of her owner’s slacks with nothing but her tongue and teeth. Her master simply stood there patiently while Sarah nuzzled out a decent-sized dick just starting to stiffen.</p><p>The mere sight of it brought a hundred images of more beautiful cocks (rods, shafts, pricks, tools, dicks, schlongs) flipping through her mind on repeat. Each time one did, her pussy (cunt, slit, snatch, cooch, hole) twitched. She could feel her own juices flowing down her bent legs again. Her groin was so hot with lust that she could swear it was making her sweat. </p><p>She took the meat before her into her mouth, and felt it expand between her cheeks. She relaxed her jaw (so easy, don’t even think about it) and took her master’s wonderful member deeper than she had ever done with any boy or girl. Her tongue twisted around it, running down the length of a vein. Precum stuck to the back of her throat and tingled — mingling with the chemicals now infused deep within Sarah’s body. </p><p>The two substances reacted with a potent explosion of guttural satisfaction. Stars exploded behind the new slave’s eyes. She moaned and siphoned the cock; her lips stretched tight and far over the shaft. It was completely hard at this point, and Sarah wanted nothing more than for it to erupt with her real prize all the way down her waiting gullet. She brought one hand up to fondle the well-groomed balls. She milked them gently, as if she could work the jizz up from the bottom. </p><p>Her owner seemed happy to oblige. They gripped the green bramble of hair on Sarah’s scalp and pushed even deeper, faster, harder into the back of her throat. The extra support let Sarah raise her other hand to gently tickle her owner’s taint with one finger. Her scalp burned with the exquisite pain of being half held up by her hair, but the sensation became jumbled with her distressing need for cum. Sarah picked up the pace. Her eyes rolled up to look her master in the eye.</p><p>The owner fidgeted below a confident smile and light gasps. Then their wonderful rod of bliss finally gave Sarah what she wanted: a warm, oozing treat that coated the inside of her face with a salty pressure. Everywhere it touched, the tingle intensified, until it almost seemed to burn.</p><p>Sarah could hardly keep all the goo in, but refused to let go of her master’s cock. Cum rushed to fill her up wherever it could. And despite her efforts, some of it escaped through one nostril. The jizz flowed down her lip and over her piercing there. She did her best to catch it with her tongue, without completely letting the dick out of her head.</p><p>She didn’t have much say in the matter when her finally owner pushed her away limply. Sarah let herself fall backwards. Her head landed on top of a still-masturbating Abby. Neither woman seemed to notice their collision.</p><p>Another snap: “You can both come now.”</p><p>The shrieks that followed didn’t penetrate the soundproof walls of the motel, but they tried. Sarah finally tipped her entire head to one side, resting it in Abby’s wet cooze. Abby was a bit more composed, as usual, and stroked the spent newbie’s panting face.</p><p>“Yes,” their owner sighed. “You’ll do just fine here. Abby, get her cleaned up and find her her own employee’s room. I’m going to check on Mr. and Mrs. Randolph in Room 23.”</p><p>“Yes, master!” Abby was delighted to be given charge of such an extremely eager new employee. Sarah, meanwhile, was back to not thinking much at all. The cum she coveted so badly was seeping out of her open mouth and between Abby’s spread thighs. With her free hand, the senior employee closed the girl’s mouth around her reward for the evening. Sarah swallowed her night’s pay appreciatively…</p><p>*****</p><p>Around that same time, in a garage behind the hotel, another woman stepped out of Sarah’s tiny car. She had wide hips, large breasts, and a happy bulge propping up an obscenely short black skirt. Above that was a top and choker almost identical to Abby’s, and now Sarah’s, except the woman’s read “VALET.” Atop her dripping wet hair — dyed in streaks of light blue and pink — was a tiny little driver’s cap. </p><p>She left Sarah’s beater next to a half-dozen others like it and waddled her happy way back to a waiting booth. She didn’t mind getting damp. She usually loved it, in fact, but the rain was downright torrential that night. They’d have to wait till the morning to call those nice men to tow the day’s vehicles away. Now that really did bother the valet. The men usually gave her much more than just a tip — up her ass and down her throat, whichever she preferred that day. They were such gentlemen. </p><p>There would be more guests soon, though. There always were!</p>
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